You swoop across the single track,
fill my path.
No foot on brake, no pause in flight.
Time stills in headlights
the ripple edge of your wings
against the black night sky,
wide feathers stretch, touch
the unseen ends of the horizon.
Your face
a moonstone heart,
within mine
a fluttering.
The width of your back
waiting.
Fiona Ritchie Walker writes poetry and short fiction, with work published in collections, anthologies and online. Find her on Twitter @guttedherring.